


Late Night Menu.

by Hyorangejuice



Category: Block B
Genre: Community: blockisbang, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-13
Updated: 2015-03-13
Packaged: 2018-03-17 16:39:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3536567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyorangejuice/pseuds/Hyorangejuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are a number of things Jiho hates to wake up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Late Night Menu.

There are a number of things Jiho hates to wake up to.  
Number one is the sound of his neighbors going at it like rabbits, with the whole more and yes like that routine and the headboard banging on the wall like a hammer. When he first went apartment hunting, with a laughable budget, Jiho tried to annihilate any kind of expectation he might have had about the place he might have ended up living in. But never in his life he thought he would end up living beside two screamers.  
Number two is the wall-of-sound piercing voices of the kids from the apartment above, whom he babysat once and almost lost an eye doing so.  
Then, in a not definite order, come the apocalypse, an uncontrollable fire, Park Kyung in a spandex suit at ass o'clock in the morning dragging him out in one of his exercising shenanigans. As much as he appreciates the effort Kyung puts into creating the perfect exercising program for Jiho to be on top form, he wishes he would stop staying up till dawn watching Jill Cooper's videos.  
This, though, _this_ topped it all, Jiho thought watching his once bathroom turned pool with dismay. Two hours later, with a very heavy plumber bent over in his bathroom and his landlord on the line, Jiho really thought that his day couldn't get any worse. Then the plumber peeked his head out of the bathroom and said: “I'm going to get the pneumatic drill.” and it magically did.

“So, hyung, please let me stay on your couch,” he pleads, joining his palms for emphasis. Minhyuk really is his last – and only – chance to avoid spending two weeks in a hotel he can't afford. Also Minhyuk is the only one who lives in an apartment big enough to have a couch. Jiho even invited him out for lunch to soften him up a little before asking.

“Two weeks?” Minhyuk looks skeptical. Right now in his eyes Jiho is not unlike a very unpleasant bug, and Jiho can only hope that Minhyuk's generosity overpowers his disgust. “If it's only two weeks, I guess... ”

Jiho is about to cry, life gave him such great friends. “Thank you, hyung, you are the best!”

Minhyuk humors him with a short, awkward laugh. Jiho slides him more meat before he can change his mind.

 

“I know it's _unfortunate_ , Kyung. Unfortunate is not the word I would use, though,” Jiho sighs, climbing the stairs up to Minhyuk's apartment.

“Anyway, remember tomorrow you need to be at the gym at five, it's important,” there are some thumps in the background, Kyung is probably picturing himself as Muhammed Ali again, as he throws weak punches at the sac.

“I know, I'll be there... ” balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder, Jiho pulls out the spare keys Minhyuk gave him.

“So, how's your temporary living arrangement so far? Met the ghost roommate yet?” Kyung asks, teasing.

“Fine and no, I haven't met him yet.”

Minhyuk, aside from a living-room with a couch, also has a roommate. Ahn Jaehyo is a weird creature. Jiho has only seen him a handful of times, and they spoke about five words to each other and Jiho doesn't even remember what they were about. Maybe the weather or something menial like 'pass the salt.'  
Ahn Jaehyo's first impression, though, is very vivid in Jiho's mind. It was at the party that christened Jaehyo's and Minhyuk's new apartment, Jiho was painfully sober because his 'super great diet plan' didn't allow him alcohol, and when he crossed the living-room to go to the bathroom he found Ahn Jaehyo barefoot on the coffee table singing his rated version of 'I'm a believer'. The whole thing ended after the second bridge with a “And fuck you, I could totally do porn,” directed to an unidentified member of the crowd.  
Their schedules don't match and Jiho has only ever communicated with him through post-its. Well, not exactly. The post-its are meant for Minhyuk, who is having a rough week at work and can't read them. So Jiho separates recyclable trash, throws out the expired milk and records the Thursday drama. And writes a tiny 'it's fine' under the last post-it that Jaehyo leaves saying _'sorry and thank you'._  
When, over breakfast, he asked Minhyuk about what Jaehyo does, Minhyuk shrugged and said “Stuff.” That only makes Jiho all the more curious.

“Anyway,” Jiho sighs pushing the door open, “I'll see you tomorrow.”

“You should probably think about moving though,” Jiho can feel a talk coming, and he is too exhausted to take it right now. 

“I promise I'll think about it,” he cuts in, closing the door behind himself. “I got to go now, I'll see you tomorrow.”

He doesn't let Kyung time to reply, hangs up and turns off his phone. His alarm goes off way too early for him to let Kyung eat any of his sleeping time with useless talking about fire hazards and earthquakes.

Shower first, though, he thinks as he shuffles in, finding the lights on in the kitchen. For a moment he thinks Minhyuk might be back incredibly early from his romantic week-end with his girlfriend, but he soon proved wrong.

“Minhyuk is that you?” an unfamiliar voice calls.

When he peeks into the kitchen Jaehyo is closing the fridge's door, sighing. Very loudly. It's their first official meeting since Jiho has taken residence on the couch, he would like to make a nice first impression.

“Hi” he mumbles, “I'm Woo Jiho, I'm staying on your couch. Minhyuk-hyung is out for the week-end.”

Jaehyo's face scrunches, he squints at something behind Jiho's shoulder and when those thin inquisitive slits find their way back on Jiho's face, Jaehyo's whole face seems to relax. “Oh, yes yes, I remember, nice to meet you,” he says after a moment. It doesn't really look like he remembers. Of either things.

“Do you want tea, I was about to make some.”

Jiho shouldn't, really he needs to go to bed to be up early to jog before work, he needs to sleep because a whole afternoon with Kyung at the gym is bad, but half of it is worse because Kyung crams in the meanest exercises. Even so, Jiho nods and Jaehyo takes out another cup along with a spoon and the sugar.  
Feeling slightly disgusting still in his work clothes, Jiho excuses himself for a shower, Jaehyo shrugs and says “Make yourself at home.”

From the bag he keeps meticulously in order beside the couch, Jiho pulls out clean clothes to change and notices with dismay how soon he is going to have to do laundry or make a trek back to his apartment to get more clothes. After he saw the plumber basically dismantle his bathroom with a pneumatic drill he is not sure he is ready to go back there yet.  
The shower is much needed after three hours spent mopping and dusting and cleaning much too tall windows. One thing he hates about his side job is the smell of disinfectant that clings onto his clothes, onto his skin, hours after he has discarded his blue jumpsuit. At first he almost couldn't bear the poignant smell of bleach and lavender, but he got accustomed to it. The water is hot, coming down in a generous jet, and Jiho sighs contentedly, blindly grabbing for his melon soap.

“So your house was flooded?” Jaehyo asks handing Jiho a hot mug of tea. Now in his sweats and a comfy night t-shirt, Jiho feels drowsy. He nods at Jaehyo's question and takes a sip of tea. “That must suck.”

“I'm just glad they didn't just tear down the whole building,” he sighs.

Jaehyo smiles sympathetically, “Old houses, always leaking somewhere.”

The sleepiness is only heightened by the nice warmness the tea spreads in his chest. He would like to ask what Jaehyo is doing up so late, if he is usually a night howl or something is keeping him awake. Jiho has feeling is the latter, Jaehyo has a nervous air about his, something jittery that puts even Jiho on edge.  
Jiho is mid-sip when a low growl erupts in the room, going lower before it fizzles away. Jaehyo looks thoroughly ashamed, cheeks turning redder by the second under Jiho's stunned gaze.

“I had a long day,” he says in lieu of an explanation, adding a minute laugh after a beat of silence. Jaehyo presses a hand over his stomach, as if trying to silence it.

Having lived by himself since he was eighteen, Jiho knows how to pull out an edible dinner out of a seemingly empty kitchen, he smiles as he says as much. Jaehyo tries to resist.

“It's fine, really,” he assures Jiho “and besides one shouldn't eat after the sun has set, it's bad for your skin,” but as he says so his stomach protests again and Jiho fixes him with a unimpressed stare and Jaehyo eventually relents.

“It's the least I can do, really,” Jiho tells him, as he pulls out a pan from the top cabinet and puts it on the stove. He isn't really acquainted with the kitchen, and he hopes he won't have to be, but he knows his way around enough after five days spent in the apartment.

The fridge offers very little. Jiho mentally reminds himself to go for groceries on his way back tomorrow, his mind instantly going to the extra exercise of walking up the stairs with two heavy bags of food. There are eggs, though, and some leftover banchan, not enough for a proper meal. Omurice it is then, he muses, putting all the ingredients on the table.  
Jaehyo sits in front of him, watching as Jiho breaks three eggs in a bowl and whisks them.

“Late Night Menu with Woo Jiho,” Jaehyo teases and Jiho finds himself oddly at ease, relaxing in the air of familiarity that comes from Jaehyo. Gone is the nervousness he had glimpsed before, as Jaehyo rests his head on his forearms. He looks like a lazy cat, back from a day out.

“Minhyuk mentioned you box... ?” Jaehyo says after a while, watching Jiho curiously.

“It's mixed martial arts, actually... ” Jiho is always a little wary when people mention it. He punches his way through life, both literally and figuratively, and sometimes that gives people the wrong impression. He is a decent fighter, good even, he likes the feeling of adrenaline rushing through him when he lands a good punch, how mollified and sore his muscles feel after a match, and sometimes the thought scares him.

“My grandfather does Thai-chi,” Jaehyo says, then furrows his brows. “I don't know why I said that, sorry.”

Jiho snorts, as he takes a generous amount of rice from the cooker and adds it all to the left over banchan in another bowl, vigorously mixing them together.

“And you? What do you do?” Jiho asks, nonchalantly, as he turns on the fire under the pan.

“Me?” Jaehyo looks a little surprised at Jiho's curiosity. “I work in a clothing store,” he purses his lips, stuffing his finger in the mix and bringing a little to his mouth. 

“What kind of clothing store?” Jiho inquires further, putting a hand over the pan to check if it's hot enough for the eggs not to stick.

“Mh... ” Jaehyo takes his mug and hoists himself up on the counter to have a better look of Jiho's cooking skills. “One that has odd hours”

The whisked eggs sizzle when Jiho pours them in the pan, trying to spread them evenly. “Can you flip it?” Jaehyo is smirking and Jiho has never been one to back down from a challenge.

He rises a brow and stares right into Jaehyo's eyes. They are glassy and a little red, yet they are dancing with barley concealed mirth, he must have been a very naughty child. Jiho knows how to flip his omelet, but here something dramatic like his honor seems at stake, so he keeps his eyes trained on Jaehyo's as he moves his wrist in one fluid motion and... Jaehyo's eyes go huge before he is doubling over in laughter.

 

Jiho is wearing a trash bag over his tracksuit as he runs along the river. Kyung follows a little behind, on his grandmother's bike, having being distracted by a little dog doing flip-backs.

“So are you hyped about the match?” Kyung speeds a bit ahead and then turns back to look expectantly at Jiho who, as per usual, speeds up his pace to keep up.

They have an 'event' coming up, a showdown between rival gyms. Except they are actually not really _rivals_ and the showdown is more a _show_ than anything else. “It's for advertisement, you don't have to like it, but you have to do it.” were the manager's last words on the matter, and with the new signing-up season coming up they need to step up their game a little. They called it _marketing strategy_.

“Yes, hyped... ” Kyung laughs at his lack enthusiasm. “Anyway, I met Minhyuk-hyung's flatmate.”

That piques Kyung's interest. “Do tell,” he says disturbingly wriggling his eyebrows.

After the omelet flipping fiasco, Jiho had redeemed himself with a very cute smile drawn with ketchup over the half-moon of the omurice. Jaehyo had seemed impressed and while they shared a plate with two spoons, they had forgone all kind of awkwardness and first-meeting talks, to go straight for a sort of ping-pong game of stupid jokes and embarrassing anecdotes. Jiho hadn't even felt bad about the measly four hours he had left to sleep.

“Like Lady and the Tramp, how cute,” Kyung coos.

Jiho gives him a once over, then lightly kicks the rear wheel of the bike. Yet it is enough for Kyung to lose his balance and fall, ungracefully, on his side, missing a puddle by an inch. Jiho hides his satisfied grin pulling up the hood of his sweatshirt, then sprints ahead, getting a head start on Kyung's wrath.

 

 

It is weird how it keeps happening. Jiho is back late from work, from the gym, and sometimes Jaehyo is just back, eyes a little red and his pajama just thrown on still sitting a little tilted on his shoulders, or maybe he is just lazying around the house with a mug of tea and... and Jiho is almost tempted to say he is waiting. He is still not sure what to make of that, or if he wants to make it into something at all, because the thought is scary enough to make him hope for something that maybe isn't even there. It has been a week days, they shared four meals and a handful of laughter and Jiho shouldn't already feel like this, like this means anything more than Jaehyo being a good host, he shouldn't want to grab Jaehyo by the neck and kiss him.  
Nonetheless, when the lady of the ddeobbokki stand asks, he says “For two, please.” Taking out the spontaneity of it, Jiho feels a little jittery, jumping the stairs two at a time, but at the same time not really wanting to get at Minhyuk's door only to find the apartment empty.  
The keys jingle in his hand, as he pushes the door open to find Jaehyo sitting in the entrance. He is startled, halfway putting on his boots Jaehyo stares at him with wide eyes, but then a pleased grin makes its way on his lips.  
Jaehyo is wearing a large black see-through knitted sweater that looks artfully chewed by a rabid dog, and, probably in a sprout of self-consciousness, Jaehyo has wore a white tank underneath.

“I almost thought I'd miss you!” Jaehyo says looking up at him. Jiho is at loss of words for a moment. Are those pants leather? “You should give me your number, you know?”

Jaehyo leaves his boots and peers up at Jiho. “I have a thing at work, want to come?”

“What kind of thing is it?” he tentatively asks, still unsure

Jiho should go to bed, wake up tomorrow morning all thoughts of Jaehyo's bare chest forgotten, but Jaehyo is already throwing clothes, very nice clothes, at him, apparently wherever they are going Jiho's clothes aren't allowed to come.

“My boss likes a certain... crowd at these events,” Jaehyo pursues his lips as he messes with Jiho's hair. “Everyone plays a part.”

“Who would I be, then?” Jiho asks, curiously peering up at Jaehyo through the messy bangs Jaehyo is styling to look exactly like they did when Jiho came back from the gym, messy.

“My bodyguard,” Jaehyo answers, looking very serious as he gives his creation one last look. “I'm a genius.”

Jaehyo has dressed him in a white button up with a leather jacket and black pants that hug his thighs nicely and pool slightly at his ankles. Apparently, Jaehyo had been doing some planning, knowing that all Jiho appeared to own were tracksuits and faded jeans.

“And what would you be?” Jiho gives his stylist a dubious once over, stopping himself from lingering too long on Jaehyo's thighs.

“Hot stuff,” Jaehyo tsks, as if it weren't obvious already.

Jiho bites back a snigger and follows Jaehyo out of the door.

 

Jackpot is tucked away in a back alley, but whatever image Jiho had built up in his head _this_ was not it. The place is packed, with people standing outside waiting to get in or just mingling with the nice background music coming from the shop. Jaehyo grabs his hand and they cut the line, going straight for the door.  
Inside the crowd is thicker, and they have to wrestle their way through, walking deeper and deeper into the shop. Jiho is introduced to Taeil, the owner, and a couple of designers who fill the shelves of the shop.  
To Jiho's surprise, Minhyuk is there, along with his girlfriend, they are something along the lines of Bonnie and Clyde, animatedly talking with a short guy with thickly framed glasses who turns out to be Jaehyo's boss. The introduction is brief, Taeil tells him to enjoy the night and the tall, giggly clown standing beside him waves them off.

“This place is... not what I expected,” Jiho confesses once they have grabbed two drinks and found a nice corner to seat.

“That's the feeling Taeil and I were going for,” Jaehyo says around his straw, waving at someone in the crowd, Jiho has stopped looking. “When we started, it was in a shop smaller than our bathroom, we barely had room for clothes.”

“We started?”

“I'm one of the owners,” Jaehyo says, amused by the surprised look on Jiho's face. “Taeil and I were friends in college, I call him boss because, well... he kind of is, I'm too soft sometimes.”

A waiter in a dark washed denim jumpsuit passes by, offering little appetizers they both refuse. They talk. The music is nice and the people not too obnoxiously loud, Jaehyo tells him it's because of the 'role-play thing', they have to keep up the part. Corrupted lawyers, hookers, magicians, Jaehyo points them out like stars and Jiho listens, fascinated more by the sound of Jaehyo's voice against his ear than from whatever Jaehyo is saying about the blonde guy in a pink tux. The fruity drink they ordered has no alcohol, but Jiho feels a little drunk when Jaehyo slumps on his side, tucking himself in all the right places, in those nooks and crannies Jiho thought would never be filled. He can't even blame it on the alcohol when his hand slips behind Jaehyo's back and stays there for longer than is considered friendly. Jaehyo doesn't seem to mind.

“I think I'm hungry,” Jaehyo mumbles after a while, eyes fixed on the crowd. Jiho cranes his neck, trying to flag a waiter, but they seem to have vanished. “No food for gnomes, thank you, I need substance and I recall there is a bag of ddeokkbokki in the fridge at home.”

Jaehyo stands and Jiho follows – which seems a growing trend these days – and they make their way towards Taeil, who cons them in doing one good luck shot before leaving. They huddle one on top of another around the table who seems to be the core of the party, towards which everyone seems to gravitate at some point. The people sitting around it look straight out of a magazine spread. Jiho has a moment to feel slightly out of place, before the giggly clown from before drags him into a one armed hug to pose for a picture a pretty girl dressed in her brother's handmedowns is taking. They drink to the party, to the host, to some U-K guy new collection and when they stand Jiho feel pleasantly warm and ready to face the chill night.  
But burnt of the alcohol is nothing against the feeling he gets when he catches Jaehyo's eyes from the other side of the table and Jaehyo has the stupidest expression on, with his eyes impossibly large and bright while his mouth contorts, and Jiho finds himself laughing, with him, at him, feeling light and bubbly and carefree like he hasn't felt in a long time.

“Let's go,” Jaehyo mouths at him, making to stand before anymore shots can be poured.

They take a cab back, because Jaehyo is too hungry to walk and when they get home he scrambles out of his shoes and goes to heat up the ddeokkbokki Jiho has brought home. Feeling a little stuffy in his borrowed clothes, Jiho changes into something more comfortable.  
Jaehyo is already comfortable on the couch, when he comes out of the bathroom, with their late dinner laid out on the coffee table.

“So, what are we watching? Predictable horror? Sad love story? Or action flick?” he has sauce on his chin and he has probably rubbed his eye because his make up is smudged and that rolled up fabric half shoved behind the couch cushion must be his sweater because he is only wearing a tank top. The amount of skin showing is taunting – especially after the amount of time he spent fantasizing about touching and tasting it and... – but what hits him the most is the familiarity of this moment. Jaehyo on the couch with food ready and some stupid movie ready to watch. This is not even his house and they just met and the time they have spent together combined probably doesn't amount to a day, but this, _this_ feels familiar.

“Ok, I choose,” Jaehyo decides, grabbing the remoter with one hand and the soda with the other. “Come on, don't stand there. It's weird.”

Jiho scoffs, and taking a step towards the couch, towards Jaehyo feels almost like stepping into an unknown territory, he curls his toes in the carpet and flops on the other side of the couch, looking at Jaehyo out of the corner of his eye.

“You have sauce on your chin,” he remarks, offhandedly, as he grabs his soda from the table.

Jaehyo sputters, running to the kitchen to get a napkin, mumbling about something Jiho can't quite catch. He chuckles to himself, sliding further down on the couch and opening his soda and letting himself savor this particular moment.

“Hot stuff indeed,” he smiles to himself.


End file.
